


All My Trails

by Jamilton_and_Lams



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Aaron is sweet, Alex is a hothead, Also I did research, Ambush, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a sad ending, Arson, Blood, Character Death, Complete, Death, Did I Mention Angst?, Did i mention this had angst?, Fun, Gwash loves him though, He misses Alex, Heartbreak, Implied Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, John is a bit of a mess, John is sick, Lafayette is sneaky, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Mass Murder, Mentions of Slavery, Misinformation, Misunderstanding, Nearly Everyone is Gay, Research, Suicide Attempt, Violet Eyes, Washette - Freeform, a lot of - Freeform, alex is smol and angry, alternitive ending added, angsty lams, because it does, british ambush, but no homophobia, changed archive warning, changed rating for content in part 2, have i ever studied history? no. but thats not the point, he also wants to do washington proud, he will not throw away his shot, historically accurate Alexander Hamilton, i cried while writing it, i've done it again, its canon era, like i'm a history major in american revolution at this point, musically accurate John Laurens, oooh, red hair, schuylkill river, shameless theatre refrences, sneaky bois, that was new, the british are assholes, the descriptions of violence tag is just one of johns flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamilton_and_Lams/pseuds/Jamilton_and_Lams
Summary: They haunted him. That shade of violet blue, so unique and mesmerizing. They had been the first thing John had noticed that night in the bar. The way the candle-light reflected off his eyes, igniting the flames within as he spoke. And the way they had contrasted with his hair. He can smiles sadly as he remembers how the soft sunlight would stream through his hair, pulling all the shades with it. That auburn, burnt orange, hair paired with those eyes had made his knees weak. And then Alexander had sent him that smile from across the room, just a quirk of his lips, his eyes half lidded.So John had manned up and strode across to introduce himself under the guise of teasing Aaron. Laf and Herc had followed him over and the five had spent the night chatting away. Then burr had left and the conversation had gotten louder and Alexander had gotten more passionate, his eyes brighter…John choked back a sob. What he wouldn’t give to see Alexander once more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The descriptions of violence tag is part of Johns flashback
> 
> Also i'm very sorry for this
> 
> The parts in bold are an old west-Indies song called "All My Trails"  
> I had this idea in my head and I was searching for a title- I wanted it to be west-indies (ish) because that's where Hammy is from and I came across this song and it fit perfectly :))))

**_H_ ** **_ush little baby, don't you cry_ ** ****  
**_You know your mama was born to die_ ** ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** ****

Alex was ready. He had waited for so long for this chance. A chance to prove to himself and to everyone else that it didn’t matter where you came from. That your past didn’t matter, that if you worked and strived and yearned for something hard enough; you could make it come true.

He had wrote himself out of the trapped life he had feared would ensnare him as it had his mother. Nevis. In all it’s glory it had been tolerable at best. Little work to be found and multiple mouths to feed. Once his father had abandoned them and fucked off back to whoever the hell knows where things had only gotten progressively worse.

Then he’d gotten sick. He can’t remember how anymore but he does remember the day his mother had fallen ill while trying to heal him. He also remembers waking up in her stiff arms. The absence of her labored breathing.

And so his life had gotten even worse.

Then his cousin killed himself.

Alex hadn’t thought it could get worse. But then the hurricane hit. And everything was gone.

So he wrote. He had planned for it to be a short letter to his father, a plea for help, for him to return... Him and James were alone. His job was gone and James barely earned enough for himself with the carpentry. But once he had started writing he couldn’t stop. So he described everything, from the hurricanes coming and subsequent annihilation of everything in its path to the desolation and ruin it left behind. Then the community had given him the money. - someone had read the letter and word had spread that the child among them was nothing less than a genius. And he deserved a chance in the world.

But James… Alex still remembered coming back to the tent with the money clutched in his fist. They were willing to send him to America? To get an education? His brother had just hugged him. “I am not as smart as you little brother, I never had a head for numbers, or the hands to write, but you, you will be amazing. You write Alex. You never stop writing, and you will do us all proud”

And so Alex wrote. He wrote his way to America. He wrote his way to revolution. And he would write his way to freedom.

  
**_T_ ** **_he river of Jordan is muddy and cold_ ** ****  
**_Well, it chills the body but not the soul_ ** ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** ****

The plan was simple in theory. All he, Captain Henry Lee and their men had to do was burn the mills and get away. A simple stealth like mission that the General himself had recommended him for. He sat up straighter on his horse. He would not fail the general.

But nothing in his life had ever been easy or gone to plan so he wasn’t 100% surprised when they were ambushed. Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? No.  

There had been no warning. The rain had started softly. As it ran down his neck he was reminded of John.

John’s kisses against his neck, John’s fingers against his body, just his sweet Laurens who was still asleep when Alex had risen this morning. Lafayette had been awake (or should he say sneaking back in?) as Alex had dressed. His Pants were on inside out and his shirt was buttoned incorrectly. Alex had smirked as his friend across the tent and whispered:

“Won’t the General be disappointed with you for sneaking out so early?” Lafayette had just flushed crimson and stuck his tongue out at his before wishing him good luck on the mission. He looked down at john and swept a few stray curls off his face. “His fever broke late last night, he should be feeling better by tonight.” He had then given Laf strict orders to leave John alone, to let him sleep (“oui oui mon ami. Calm down!) before grabbing an apple, pressing a kiss to John forehead and slipping out of the tent.

But then the rain ha gotten harder. Soon it was pelting down full force. But there was no shelter so there was nothing to do but ride on. By the time they arrived at the mill all of the men were drenched. The rain had again slowed and the men were joking and laughing among themselves. Henry Lee reached into his satchel. “Well let’s hope these can still light after all that rain.”

The men had broken off into groups starting small fires as to light the torches. By the time Alex threw his the stores were alight and the men were relaxed, trying to dry their socks and telling each other about their families. One man was standing and talking so enthusiastically everyone couldn’t help but listen in. His daughter wanted to become a soldier, he had laughed along with the other men as he had told his story. “She is four years old and wants to be just like her pops when she grows up. Look here she is on my last visit home.” He shows an expertly drawn picture of a little girl being smothered by the uniform coat.

As the last of the fires were started and they were certain they had completed their mission, Alex had looked warily at the column of smoke rising but Lee had reassured him that it wouldn’t be spotted. “We are right on the riverside Alexander, it has been raining all day, if anyone sees it they should think it's fog rolling in. by the time they realise otherwise we will be long g-”

He is cut off by the sound of bullets. The man who had been talking so animatedly about his daughter is cut short by a bullet emerging from between his eyes. The picture that was in his hand falls, lands in the fire pit and immediately turns to ash.

Then the yelling started.

  
**_I’_ ** **_ve got a little book with pages three_ ** ****  
**_And every page spells liberty_ ** ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** ****

John had woken to a cold bed. He had reached out an arm to see if Alex had perhaps just rolled away from him when it became evident he was gone. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. He knew Alex had that mission today but he wished he had said goodbye.

“He did not wish to wake you mon ami” John looked up to see Laf looking at him. “Are you okay John? Alex said your fever broke last night, do you need anything?”

“Alex” the word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Laf only laughed and helped him sit up. “Something i can get you right now this second that isn’t away on a mission for the general then?”

“Water would be great, thanks Laf.” Laf wandered off to fetch him he water and he leaned back. God he was pathetic. Getting sick the day before the mission. At least he could take comfort in the fact Henry Lee was actually competent at what he was doing. He would keep his Alexander safe. He was annoyed with himself if he was being honest. This was meant to be _their_ mission.

When the General had approached them two days ago and told them he had a mission he wanted the pair to lead, they had been ecstatic. They had ended their day drinking with Laf who was annoyed he hadn’t been chosen. Not for lack of trying though. He had spent the night whispering in the general’s ear and the pair had ended up disappearing for half an hour. The general had returned with darkened eyes and a frown. Laf hadn’t returned at all. The whole camp had sensed the change in the atmosphere and the men started turning in for the night. Alex and John spent the night comforting Laf until John had lost it completely. Racing off into the night he returned with a very confused General in tow. Until he saw Laf's face. The two had returned to the generals tent and at last the pair could sleep. Until Alex woke up to the sound of John throwing up.

Lafayette returned with a cup of water and the general. John sat up a little straighter and made to get out of his bed before the general shook his head and motioned at him to stay seated. “I take you are feeling better lieutenant colonel?”

“Yes sir - I’ll be reporting to your tent tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Please don’t overly strain yourself John After all, i have another Aide-de-camps who will be more than happy to help with your work - right my dear Marquis?”

Laf flushed a deep red and just nodded his head. John felt like throwing up again. It was too early too see his friend and the general make heart eyes at each other.

The day dragged by. The  rain came down in sheets and John had himself wrapped in as many blankets as he could. He sipped at the tea Laf dropped by and flicked through his journals. He had plans; Ending slavery at the top. He had list and lists of names and places he had to visit. Alex had helped him compile and shorten the lists. The two of them would be unstoppable, once they got the chance the two would change the world.

Freedom and equality for all men. He had seen men tortured in the most brutal of ways growing up for mistakes as small as spilling a glass of wine, seen them die as well. He had seen his father maim and destroy men. He had seen his cousins leering at women. He had seen the women flinch when they felt the eyes of his family gazing upon them.

He had tried to help. Stealing healing balms from his home and bringing them down to the women as a child and staying to help as he got older.

He remembered Caleb as well, the boy no older than John himself. The two had been secret friends, offering smiles as they saw each other, John bringing him food and Caleb crying because ‘one whole roll - just for me?’ He remembers as well the day his younger brother had asked him at dinner why he was friend with a slave. He remembers the deafening silence, he remembers the swift pain across his cheek…

And he remembers waking up to the screams of a mother, of walking downstairs and finding his best friend swinging from the Apple tree.  He remembers how he had hardly recognised him, the blood seeping from open wounds on his back, some inches deep - whipped, the wounds on his wrist showed evidence of manacles, his stomach was carved up and his head was shaven.

“Suicide” his uncle said, shaking his head and walking back into the house. “What a pity.” His father and uncles had exchanged smirks. they hadn't even bothered to change their clothes, which still had fresh blood stains on them. 

And John… he had been tasked by his father to collect the body and leave it in the forest for the animals. But he couldn’t. So instead hiding the body, he returned that night to give his friend the burial he deserved, making up his mind, at the age of 14 that this had to stop. That he had to stop it.

Because who else would stand against this barbaric treatment?

As soon as he had turned 16 he left a note for his father explaining he was leaving to join the revolution.

All the while planning his own.

  
**_T_ ** **_oo late my brothers_ ** ****  
**_Too late, but never mind_ ** ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** ****

The hours passed. John paced.

They should be back. Even if the had stopped to rest for the night they should be back.

The General entered the tent and Laf jumped up. “Any news mon cher?”

He frowned. “They still haven’t returned?” John shook his head and resumed his pacing.

 

************************************************************************************

There was mass panic. They were outnumbered about 20:1. It was an ambush. Someone had told the Redcoats they were coming. He looked around for Hamilton seeing him hiding behind a cart and raced towards him.  “Henry, it was an ambush, they knew-”

“I know Hamilton, keep your voice down” he hissed in reply.

Henry scanned their surroundings. There was no escape. They were trapped between the freezing lake, a fire that's burning out of control and Redcoats. At least they had completed their mission before they had arrived.

Hamilton scanned their surroundings, no doubt looking for an escape route. The man was a genius but nothing short of a miracle would get them out of this alive. More gunfire. He gritted his teeth as he heard his men dying, hating feeling so useless.

Suddenly the gunfire stopped. “Is that them all sir?”

He paled _them all_?? 50 good men dead. His chest felt hollow. He saw Hamilton freeze and knew he was about to do something stupid and reckless. “Hamilton…” he warned.

“At my signal, run.” Henry froze turning to look at the young man beside him. “ _What_?”  he hissed.

“Someone has to make it back to the General. Tell him what happened. Tell him there is a spy i the camp. If not - how knows how many more groups will end up like this?”

Henry knew he was right. Someone had to warn the General.  “Alexander, please be careful, stay safe.”

Alexander gave him a rueful smile. “Tell John i’m sorry. I don’t think i can help him keep his promise.” Henry went to grab Alex but it was too late. Two shots from his pistols and the redcoat commander and another soldier were dead.

“Come on you assholes? Really - all of them are dead? You don’t see me down yet - do you, you fucking assholes?”

Henry knew it was the signal. So slipping out quietly as Alexander held all their attention, he managed to get to a horse unseen. Leading the horse quietly along the tree line he slipped into the cover of the trees.

Then a spray of bullets sounded. Then a splash. And a cheer.

Henry felt sick knowing what had happened. Alexander was dead. He had failed all his men in every way.

  
**_I_ ** **_f living were a thing that money could buy_ ** ****  
**_You know the rich would live And the poor would die_ ** ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** ****

When the sound of a racing horse filled the sound of the camp John was the first one to it. It was hard under the cover of darkness to see who it was. The head lifted and john nearly cried. It was a blood splattered Henry Lee.

He looked to the General first. “It was an ambush. They knew we were coming. We got the fires started but-” his voice broke.

“Dad?” a voice called out. John turned to see Charles Lee pushing his way through the crowd. Henry met his son halfway bringing him in for a hug.

“Where is Alexander? Where are the rest of the men?” a voice called out.

Henry scanned the crowd only to find John standing at the front. “I am sorry John Laurens. He told me to tell you that he was sorry and that he doesn’t think he can help you, and that he won’t be able to keep his promise.”

John took a step back and nearly collapsed to the ground, only stopped by Laf holding onto him. He doesn’t remember Laf following him.

“He sacrificed himself so that one of us could make it back to warn you, General of the fact that there is a spy in our midst. He didn’t give me a chance to come up with a less reckless plan he just ran with his pistols blazing and shot the commander.”

He took a deep breath as he said the words: “Alexander Hamilton is dead. He was shot by the British troops and i heard as he sunk beneath the water of  the Schuylkill river as they celebrated”

John went numb. This was his fault - if he had gone instead of getting sick he would have stopped Alex. Would have knocked him out if needs be. But now…

Now he had to live knowing that while he was waiting around camp, his lover had been killed.

He pushed off Lafayette’s arms off of him with a start. And not looking back he staggered back to the tent by himself. It was fitting he supposed, by himself. He would now sleep by himself, work by himself. Laf had the general and Henry Lee had his son.

He didn’t have anyone.

He looked back through the plans he and Alex had spent so long planning, with tears streaming down his face. Turning over a new page he began to re-plan it all.

He had so much work to do.

Someone tried to interrupt him a few times but he just ignored them all. As the candle light faded he wrote. And when he couldn’t right anymore he went to his chest and took out the letters he had received from Alex. He sat on their shared bed wrapped in one of Alex’s nightshirts as he reread the letters, tracing the words softly.

_“My dear Laurens…”_

He fell asleep with them clutched to his chest.

  
**_T_ ** **_here grows a tree in Paradise_ ** ****  
**_And the Pilgrims call it the tree of life_ ** ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** **  
**

When he awoke the camp was near silent. The were mourning for their friends. But also underlying it all was shock. He could hear the whispers of disbelief as people passed on the message to those who hadn’t heard last night.

“Hamilton is dead?”

“Bright young man…”

“...so much potential…”

“...could have changed the world…”

He tried to block out the words. His Alexander was dead. Nobody could interrupt his vigil. He didn’t speak. He didn’t eat. Had it only been 12 hours since Lee had arrived back? Why was the sun so bright? It didn’t deserve to shine on a day like this. It should be raining, thundering. He nearly wished for a hurricane.

Hurricane…

Someone had to write to James Hamilton. The pit in his stomach grew. How would he word that letter?

“Hi, You don’t know me but i’m your brother’s lover. Actually i was. Because he is dead. Alexander is dead. Hope you enjoy the rest of your life!”

He sank into the chair at his desk. That was an issue for another time.

The day passes and light turns to dark.

He is tempted to turn in early but looking at the empty bed turns his stomach.

He hears a commotion outside his tent. He wants to go tell whoever is out there to _fuck off_ and let him mourn in peace. But he can’t he is just too tired. He is too emotionally drained.

He realises with a start if this is what life without Alexander is going to be -  trying to fill the hole in his life with work - it's not a life he wants to lead. He looks across and sees his pistols by the tent flap. Sitting on his bed he contemplates his choices.

  
**_T_ ** **_oo late my brothers_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Too late, but never mind_ **

He was lucky he presumes. Lucky as hell. He has no idea how he managed to avoid being shredded by those bullets. Actually he realises, he has.

A second before they had opened fire he had tripped. He’d fallen backwards and as he hit the water he swam. He was good at holding his breath. A skill that had saved him during the hurricane and it had saved him again now. He came upon an abandoned boat that was flipped, swimming underneath he was hidden. He hears a couple of the soldiers cheering and start celebrating. A pain in his shoulder distracts him. Ah so not 100% lucky. He has no idea how he managed to swim the 50 meters to the boat.  Knowing someone will come looking for a body Alex ducks out from the boat he scans his surroundings. Seeing one of his fellow soldiers he drags him into the water and wincing with the pain in his shoulder makes his way back to the boat. He pushes the body towards where he fell and disappears under the boat. Then he waits.

He knows when they find the body. The shouts are spread and the men start laughing. “Fucking idiots. You’d think that lot would know by now they had spy in their midst.”

“How many groups has that been now Covey?”

“Eight, Sir. Eight in the last Five days.”

Alex felt sick to his stomach. Eight other missions. Countless men. How many had he known? How many would arrive back to cmap? Would any? He just hoped Henry did. The man had a family and lot more to live for.

What did he have?

John. He had John. His dear Laurens. The one good thing he had found, the one star in a black empty sky.

He also had Laf and Herc, along with Burr. But that was it.

Hercules… he hoped his mission regiment was safe. Out of the four of them Herc was the most level headed. He would be fine. He was sure of it.

They were still speaking: “where is he anyway? Doesn’t he want his payment?”

“He said he’ll meet up with Christoph tomorrow. Doesn’t want to be caught out here, too close to ‘the scene’”

The contempt was evident in the soldier's voice. It was obvious he wasn’t a fan of the traitor, whoever it was.

The hours went by.  Alex was still in the freezing water. He was shivering and he was struggling to stop his teeth from chattering. The British redcoats had set up for the night. Using the field as a bed they relaxed.

Alex didn’t sleep. He saw the sun rise through a crack in the boat and heard the men grumbling about the trek back to base. His stomach growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. When he was sure every last redcoat had left he waded to shore and collapsed.

Staring up at the sky he was tempted to fall asleep. But he couldn't. If any of them were to back track he’d be dead before he could open his eyes. Forcing himself to his feet, he ripped a part of shirt off and fashioned it into a makeshift sling.  

He looked around. The sun was directly above him and he was getting a headache. He prayed that some of the horses were still around. He had no idea how he would get back if he didn’t. Thankfully lady luck was on his side because there, under the tree where he had left her was his horse. Forcing himself up, he stabilized himself before setting off on the trip back.

Six hours. It had taken six hours for him to get here. He was stopped at the front to the camp.”who are you? State your name and business.” Alex raised his head and glared at the sentry. “I have been shot at, almost killed and frozen. I am exhausted and extremely hungry and all i want to crash in my bed. But first i have to speak to the general.”

It must have been a new sentry because the kid only rolled his eyes. “What’s your name mister?”

It was the second sentry who took that moment to turn around. He dropped his gun and raced towards him. “HAMILTON?”

Alex looked down. “Oh hey Burr! Can i get in now?”

“Your alive?!?!” Alex was worried. Aaron looked like he was about to burst into tears.

“Sir, are you saying this is _Alexander Hamilton_ …” the first Sentry hissed.

“Yes, yes it is. Now go open the gate, i need to talk to the lieutenant colonel for a minute.” The younger man ran off.

“Burr, what’s going on?”

“Everyone thinks you’re dead Alexander. Henry Lee came back saying you had run head first into a suicide mission. John is a mess, the camp is in uproar, Lee blames himself-”

“What do you mean John is a mess?” Alex interrupted.

“He won’t leave the tent, he hasn’t eaten, doubt he slept more than an hour or two last night…”

“I need to see him.”

“You need to talk to the general Alexander! He needs to know immed-”

“Aaron, please shut up” he suddenly felt very tired. All he wanted to do was curl up beside John and sleep.

Aaron paused and looked at his friend. He looked exhausted, drained and looking like he could kneel over any minute. He shook his head. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind am I?”

“I need to see John” is the only reply he gets, for the gate opens and Alexander has spurred the horse on.

The young soldier walks towards Burr as the gates close. “How is he still alive? You heard what Lee sai-”

“Alexander Hamilton is unstoppable. He works and fights and it will be a cold day in hell before he lets something as trivial as death, keep him from the man he loves”

 ****  
**_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_All my trials, Lord, soon be over_

Alexander races through the camp. He lost his hat near the gate and his ponytail has come undone, his red hair, as bright as a flame catches everyone's attention as it streamed behind him. He can hear the whispers starting then the cheering. “Alive! He is Alive”

But he doesn’t slow. He isn’t here for them. He needs to see John. His John. His dear Laurens, who must be so worried. He pulls the horse to a stop. His clothes stick to him,saturated with water. His head was spinning but he only has eyes for the tent flap that has yet to open.

His Laurens. His love.

Alexander is still soaked. His shirt sticks to his body and his trousers are uncomfortable. His shoes are long gone, lost in the river.

He sneezes. And now he is sick. But sick and alive is better than dead.

Someone tries to get him to go see the medic but he ignores them, slowing his horse to a trot.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Henry Lee pushing his way through the crowd. He stops his horse and slides off, trying to keep any and all pressure off his shoulder.

Lee reaches him with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry Alexander. I shouldn’t have left you. We shou-”

“Stop Henry. It was my choice. Everything worked out well in the end anyway.”He flashed him a pained smile and saw Washington making his way through the crowd. “But if you want to make it up to me,hold off the General. I need to see John”

Not waiting for a reply, Alex slipped into the crowd and made his way to the tent he shared with Laf and John. He pushed open the flap of the tent with a grin on his face.

Which turned to horror when he saw John with the gun to his head.

*******************************************************************************************************

John had made up his mind. He couldn’t do it. There was no way to succeed in ending slavery without Alex. There was no light in his life without Alex. There was no escape and he couldn’t close his eyes for longer than a few seconds without seeing Alex’s eyes.

They haunted him. That shade of violet blue, so unique and mesmerizing. They had been the first thing John had noticed that night in the bar. The way the candle-light reflected off his eyes, igniting the flames within as he spoke. And the way they had contrasted with his hair. He can smiles sadly as he remembers how the soft sunlight would stream through his hair, pulling all the shades with it. That auburn, burnt orange, hair paired with those eyes had made his knees weak. And then Alexander had sent him that smile from across the room, just a quirk of his lips, his eyes half lidded.

So John had manned up and strode across to introduce himself under the guise of teasing Aaron. Laf and Herc had followed him over and the five had spent the night chatting away. Then burr had left and the conversation had gotten louder and Alexander had gotten more passionate, his eyes brighter…

John choked back a sob. What he wouldn’t give to see Alexander once more.

He lifted the pistol to head, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll see you on the other side”

He pulled the trigger

***************************************************************************************************

The shot rang out and Alex screamed.

Johns body fell to the floor.

“No! No no no no no.  John. John no nonnoonono.”

It took nearly five seconds for Alexander to realise that John was still alive, and that there was no blood. He ran to john and grabbed the gun out of his hand and opened the revolver. Out of the six slots, five were full.

He stared down at John who was just staring at the ground in shock. “John? Baby? Are you alright?”

John slowly lifted his head to stare at Alex. then he burst into tears. “You were dead. He said you were dead. And i couldn’t do it alone. I - i - can’t - i couldn’t function without you.”

“Shhh baby, shhh”

“I nearly ruined us, i’m so sorry.”

Lafayette came running in. “Mon dieu! I heard a gunshot what happened”

“Later Laf please.” Alexander begged as he cradled a sobbing John in his arms.

“I understand, mon petit lion, but the general will be here any seco-”

“ALEXANDER HAMILTON! Where are you? What in the dev-” the general barged into the tent. He stopped yelling when he saw Alex and John on the floor. “You must get your arm examined Alexander” John clasped onto him, his head not leaving Alex’s neck, his sobbing quieting to silent crying.

Laf whispered something in his ear and the general nodded. Laf fled the tent while the commander sat at the table.

“Son-”

“I’m not your son” Alex snapped. “I am a soldier. Soldiers get injured. It's war. It's life.” he moved John back and stared at his, ignoring the general, “John you can’t do that again. Promise me. Promise me if i die, don’t throw your life away. Fight. Don’t give up on life just because i’m not in it anymore.”

John just nodded his head. But Alex wasn’t satisfied. “I want to hear you say it Love. Promise me.”

“I - I promise.”

Laf re-entered the tent with a doctor, who immediately went to Alex’s side.

“You need to get this shirt off lieutenant colonel. I can’t begin to heal your wound until i can get a look at it.”

“Just cut the shirt off me” Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s already ruined anyway.”

As the doctor worked, Alex moved John’s head to his lap. He saw Laf and the General leave together and couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. He was alive. John was alive. And for that moment, that was all that mattered.


	2. Alternative ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> umm... a lot of angst.  
> the heartbreak no one asked for  
> grieving boys
> 
> aka: the one where John killed himself
> 
> tw for suicide/blood/vomiting

The shot rang out and Alex screamed. 

Johns body fell to the floor.

“No! No no no no no. John. John no nonnoonono.”

The blood was everywhere.  On the tent walls. On the bed. On the desk. 

Alex let out a scream and fell to the floor beside John. he could feel the tears streaming down his face and he could feel the blood soak into his trousers.  

He grabs a towel on the ground and presses it against the wound in John’s head. Maybe if he can stop the bleeding… 

He can faintly hear himself begging John to wake up, to open his eyes goddammit… 

**********************************************************************************************

Lafayette  is celebrating when he hears the gunshot. His first thought is that they are being ambushed and he quickly scans the surrounding tree line and cocks his pistol. 

Then he hears the scream. It is coming from the cluster of tents.

Months of sharing a tent with Alexander has him accustomed to the sounds of Alex’s screams. Nightmares and flashbacks aren’t uncommon among soldiers after all. But this… 

He had never heard this before.

He is up and running and faintly aware of someone - Burr?- following close behind him. 

He pushes aside the flap of the tent he shares with John and Alex. 

And promptly throws up.

He sees Aaron enter the tent as he is wiping his mouth and hears the soft curse that follows. 

He leans against the post trying to calm himself before entering. The sight of all the blood and his friends body in Alex’s arms… 

And the sight of Alex covered in blood. 

Blood soaked trousers, blood matted in his hair, blood, blood, blood, all that blood… 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and jumps. 

“Gilbert, my boy, what’s wrong? Some of the soldiers reported a scream from this direction - what happened?”

He just shook his head at the general and tried to resist the urge to throw up again. 

“Gilbert you are crying - what happened?”

He looks towards the tent and promptly spins on his heel and throws up again. 

Then he sinks to the ground. He feels George place his coat around his shoulders and the warmth envelops him. 

“Please Gil… whats wrong?”

“A-A-Alex is the one who screamed. He - He must have arrived just as he pulled the trigger…”

George freezes and suddenly all warmth is gone from his voice. The General tone takes over and…

“What trigger? What happened?”

“I - I can’t George… just… I think Aaron is with them- Alex now.”

He closes his eyes as the general walks towards the tent, wishing he was anywhere else…

Wishing he had never joined this blasted war and stayed in France.  

He doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the general swear.

He doesn’t open his eyes when Aaron emerges covered in blood and dead eyed.

He doesn’t open his eyes when the general walks out of the tent with a bloody body wrapped in sheets in his arms.

He doesn’t open his eyes until he hears Alex cry out for John. He opens his eyes to see the flaps of the tent had been tied back. He stands up on shaky legs and walks towards the tent. He can see Alex sitting on John’s bed, his head in his hands. At first he thinks he is praying. Then he hears the soft beat he is tapping out with his fingers. 

 

“ Too late my brothers   
Too late, but never mind   
All my trials, Lord, soon be over” 

 

He doesn’t recognize the song or the tune. All he does is wander over to Alex and sit on the bed beside him. He feels Alex place his head onto his shoulder and the tears that were leaking from his eyes start staining his shirt.

Neither of them move when one of the soldiers return with a bucket of water and start to clean the blood from the floor. 

*********************************************************************************

The hours pass. Alex falls into a restless sleep, still covered in blood.  

When the general returns he sees how red the older man’s eyes are. He doesn’t move for fear of waking Alex, who is clutching onto him in his sleep like a lifeline. 

George walks over and sits on a chair opposite to Laf. 

“How are you Gil?”

He looks at his lover in surprise. 

“Moi? C’est Alex I am worried about George he-”

“John was your friend as well Gilbert. You knew him a lot longer than Alex did. Hercules’s is due in with a report in the next day or so  and I will give you all time to mourn then… but now - how do you feel?”

The tears he thought that were long gone spring to the forefront again. 

George only gets up and wraps him in a hug. 

**************************************************************************************

Alex keeps his eyes closed. 

If he keeps his eyes closed he can pretend that it's John he is curled up with. That when he opens his eyes he will see John smiling down at him, his twinkling blue eyes full of mischief and life.

He blames himself for what happened.

If he had only been faster. What if he had rode faster. What if he hadn’t looked back. What if he hadn’t stuck around to talk to Aaron or anyone else. What if he had ignored everyone and just rode faster. What if… 

He also blames Henry Lee. 

Why had he told them he was dead? Why had he -

He knew why. It had been a suicide mission. He would have been dead if he hadn’t tripped. 

He should be dead. 

He keeps his eyes closed and imagines that it's John rubbing soothing circles on his back.

************************************************************************************

“Son?”

“Not-chu son” he mumbles back, wondering who the hell was waking him up so early.

“Alexander, son - you have to change out of the clothes. You’ve slept for nearly 24 hours. We are in the process of setting up a new tent for you and Gi- Lafayette.”

Everything came crashing down as Alex opened his eyes and blinked against the sun. The General was sitting beside his bed-

No. no no no….

He starts to hyperventilate and the General is quick to approach him. “Breath son. Deep breaths now, 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.   And out - 1. 2. 3. 4. Repeat.”

The general helps him calm down long enough for Alex to ask the question. “Where… where’s his body Sir?”

“We have him in a coffin, son. Henry Laurens is arriving today to collect him, to bring him back to be buried in their families plot”

“Can - can I say goodbye?”

“Get changed first son, then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t call me son.”

The general only sends him a small smile and leaves him alone, pointing to a pile of fresh, clean clothes.

He can see the smears of badly cleaned blood on the floor and the smell of copper turns his stomach. He grabs the bin beside his bed and throws up.

******************************************************************************************

The funeral is long and the sun is hot. Alex, Lafayette, Hercules and Aaron stand at the back of the Mepkin Abbey in South Carolina as prayers are said and passages are read. The General sits beside Henry Laurens at the front of the church and John siblings are scattered among the pews. 

The sermon ends and Alex can’t get out of the stuffy church fast enough. They walk to the graveyard and he has to look away as the coffin is placed in the ground. He throws a flower on top of the coffin as the mud is poured back on top.

He turns away and scans the graveyard for Laf or Herc or Aaron - anyone...

He hears a voice call out his name. He turns as a woman with brown hair making her way towards him. She holds out her hand. “I’m Martha, John was my older brother.” 

“I’m sorry” is all he can get out - how many lives has he impacted because he was too late - was this his legacy - the cause of his lovers death. Ruiner of lives.

She puts a hand on his arm and it takes everything in him not to flinch. 

“We do not blame you Alexander.”

He looks up at her. “What?” 

“My brother often wrote to me about this amazing man he loved. The man he would follow to ends of the earth. The man he loved.” 

She holds out a necklace. A locket. 

He opens it to find a portrait of John inside. 

“”He would want you to have this.” 

She turns and leaves his at the grave, looking down at the portrait of the man he loved. He closes the locket and slips the chain over his head. The locket rests over his heart. 

He turns and leaves the graveyard.


End file.
